


chaotic asynchronous activity of the heart

by lyresea



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Post-Episode: s02e17 Melinda, and haphazard use of sentence structure, warning for blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 03:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3753154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyresea/pseuds/lyresea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They'd been planning to start a family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	chaotic asynchronous activity of the heart

She doesn’t deserve this.

 

Her period is late.

Her period is late but she’s bleeding from her calf (the stitches pull, it starts to ooze, it doesn’t hurt at all why would it).

Her period is late and she’s bleeding from her calf and there’s a little girl bleeding from a hole in her head (and the little girl lies in her arms and she can only cradle her and hold her close and wait).

Her period is late and there’s a little girl tombed in a box, in a fridge, in a facility far far away, where they can open and close her at want and will and still she will never bleed again.

Her period is late.

She doesn’t deserve this.

 

Andrew’s hands are smooth and strong.

Andrew’s hands are smooth and strong and they would wipe away the fever from their little daughter’s head (their little daughter who would never have a hole in her skull from where the blood would fall).

Andrew’s hands are smooth and strong and they would wipe away the fever from their little daughter’s head and now they wrap the bandage around Melinda’s leg: once, twice, and then the thrice and she can’t see the blood.

Andrew’s hands are smooth and strong and every time he strokes her back, every time he caresses her hips, every time he reaches for her hand and he touches her; and every time he’s there beside and he just wants to soothe, there’s a little girl who isn’t theirs bleeding from her head and a sharp shrieking dagger tears through Melinda’s skin. It tears through Melinda’s heart. It tears through Melinda’s soul.

Andrew’s hands are smooth and strong and he could cradle a little girl; and that little girl wouldn’t find herself with hands that swallowed pain as joy; and that little girl that he would cradle in his arms, she wouldn’t _bleed_.  

Her period is late.

Andrew’s hands are smooth and strong.

She doesn’t deserve this.

 

The pain crawls through her nerves and settles round her heart.

The pain crawls through her nerves and settles round her heart; it slides through the ventricles and it buries deep.

The pain crawls through her nerves and settles round her heart and the little girl wants it, the little girl reaches for it, and Melinda reaches back with a bullet between brown eyes.

It bleeds, the little girl who wasn’t and isn’t a little girl any longer.

The pain crawls through her nerves and settles round her heart and it will never leave.

Her period is late.

She doesn’t deserve this.

 

The stick is blank.

The stick is blank and the box says one line for no, two lines for yes, a mystery but wait five minutes and it won’t be, but if she had waited five minutes, her team wouldn’t _be_ either.

She has no team now. But no team is better than a dead team. A little girl bleeding from her head is better than no team is better than a dead team.

No little girl is better than a dead little girl.

No lines are better than dead lines. The stick isn’t blank.

 

Her period is late.

Andrew’s hands are smooth and strong.

The pain crawls through her nerves and settles round her heart.

The stick isn’t blank.

 

She doesn’t deserve this.

 

She walks out his door. A little girl lies in a box and her dreams lie in another.


End file.
